


Anything You Can Do

by sariane



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Smut, Steve is a little shit, Voyeurism, Well that escalated quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sariane/pseuds/sariane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky “accidentally,” sort-of, kind-of challenges Steve to see who can be louder when jerking off. What happens next is predictable and just a little embarrassing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything You Can Do

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted [here on tumblr](http://sarriane.tumblr.com/post/106752066990) as a New Years gift for my followers. I figured it's about time to share with everyone else. :) Enjoy! 
> 
> **Warnings:** As far as consent goes, this story is about two friends trying to one-up each other while masturbating. The “jerk-off contest” was written as consented, but the discussion is short and comes about halfway through, before they start doing it together. So, YMMV when it comes to consent. Please let me know if you have any concerns!

Steve is finally  _almost_ asleep when he hears it.

The noise starts out low, then rises louder and louder. First, it’s just the squeaking of old bed springs; then a faint and labored grunting; the sounds of harsh moans, barely bitten back; finally growing to a throaty, husky _groaning_ coming from Bucky’s room.

Steve opens one eye, then the other.

_“Oh, fuck,”_ Bucky groans, his voice partially muffled by the wall and what Steve figures is Bucky’s pillow. _“Fuck, yeaaaah.”_

It isn’t hard to figure out what he’s doing.

Steve groans a much different type of groan. He rolls over in bed, pulling his blankets over his head. If he can just ignore his _jerk_ best friend getting off in the other room, maybe he can get enough sleep for once in his life. Maybe.

It’s not that he particularly minds (not that he’d ever _listened_ to Bucky before, of course), or that it bothers him (other than getting him a little _hot_ and _bothered_ ), or that, any other day of the week, he’d say a word (other than the ones bitten back into his own pillow).

No, it’s the principle of the thing. The lack of respect for Steve’s night’s rest.

Yeah, Steve tells himself as he tries to get comfortable in his bed. It’s definitely that.

“ _Yeah, come on, come on. Fuck. Fuck.”_

Steve rolls over onto one side, fidgeting until his knees are curled up to his chest.

“ _Fuck. Fuck, god. Oh god. Oh god!”_

He shoves his fingers in his ears.

_“Oh! Oh! Ooooh! FUCK!”_

Steve throws his pillow across the room at the wall between their bedrooms. There’s a steady _thump, thump, thump_ as Bucky’s rickety twin bed bangs into it.

He’d pushed it up against the wall, where it must be knocking into the wallpaper with every thrust. Steve grits his teeth.

He throws the blankets off of himself and stalks to the other side of his tiny bedroom, where he bangs a few times on the wall and waits.

Bucky doesn’t quiet down _at all._ If Steve didn’t know any better, he’d think Bucky was ignoring him on purpose, considering the loud, “ _Fuck, that’s good!”_ that Bucky shouts a moment afterwards. He bangs a few more times, but Bucky keeps moaning and shouting and ramming his goddamn bed up against their shared wall.

Steve hollers, “Buck, keep it down, asshole!” through the wall, loud enough that he _knows_ Bucky’s gotta be able to hear. But, yet again, Bucky doesn’t pay a bit of attention.

Angrily, Steve stalks out of his bedroom in his too-thin pajamas, stopping outside of Bucky’s bedroom door. He doesn’t even think before he knocks loudly.

_Knockknockknockknockknockknockknock._

The sound of Bucky’s bed hitting Steve’s wall stops for a moment, but only a moment.

“Bucky,” Steve calls through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to get some sleep. Keep it down in there!”

When Bucky doesn’t say a word (at least, not one that Steve thinks is directed at _him_ ), Steve bursts into Bucky’s room.

Bucky’s naked and flushed from head to toe, sprawled out on his bed in the midst of a tangled mess of sheets. He’s got one hand on his dick, which is dripping pre-come onto his stomach. Steve watches as he strokes his thumb over the head and down his dick. Steve’s eyes drift downwards, where a few fingers of Bucky’s other hand disappear into his asshole. Steve figures they’re slicked up from the tin Bucky’s got next to him on the shaking bed.

Every time Bucky thrusts himself down onto his fingers, his bedframe shifts backwards, bumping into the wall that joins their rooms.

Steve stares.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bucky,” Steve says angrily. “Can you stop jacking off for _one goddamn second_ and listen to me? I’m trying to sleep.” He crosses his arms. “Shut your big mouth and shut the hell up.”

When Bucky finally opens his eyes to acknowledge Steve, the asshole _smiles_ at him. He groans loudly and dramatically as he pulls his fingers out of his ass. He doesn’t bother to take his hand off his dick.

“C’mon, Steve, you’re the one who walked in here,” Bucky says, voice heavy from exertion and lust. “Can’t you let a guy have a little private time?”

“This ain’t private time,” Steve snaps. “I bet they can hear you clear down the road, asshole.”

“Mmm,” Bucky hums, “’Cause all those times you were rubbin’ one out, I never heard a word outta you.”

“Maybe because I wasn’t trying to compete with the foghorns down by the docks,” Steve snarls.

“Oh, you’ve given them a run for their money a few times,” Bucky says smugly. Steve hates how happy and _satisfied_ he looks. The bastard hasn’t even come yet. It’s not _fair._

“I never heard a word of complaint,” Steve replies. “If I were as loud as you, you’d be knocking down my door.”

“ _Bet I would_ ,” Bucky mutters to himself, probably louder than he realizes. “Like you _could_ ,” Bucky says. “There’s some things, Steve, you’ll never be good at as me.”

Steve feels his blood boil.

He turns on his heel and positively storms from the room, slamming Bucky’s door behind him. He stomps back into his own room, throwing off his shirt and pants and underwear, not even bothering to close his door behind him. He throws himself back on his bed and starts stroking his dick angrily.

He’s already half-hard from rage alone, so it doesn’t take him long before he’s rummaging through his bedside table for Vaseline, then slathering it over his cock. He cries out, softly at first, then louder.

It’s not loud enough. In the other room, Bucky’s back to fucking himself on his own hand, presumably, as his bed is back to ramming against Steve’s wall.

Steve clenches his teeth and groans through them.

“Come on,” he whispers to himself. Louder, he adds, “Fuck. Come on, you sonuvabitch. Fuck, fuck, _come. On._ ”

Judging by how easily Bucky’s voice carries through the wall, almost like it isn’t even there, Steve knows Bucky’s _got_ to be able to hear him moaning like this.

Steve grips himself so tightly he feels like he’s going to come and die right now, far too soon, but Steve knows how to hold back. He cries out when his grip is a little too tight, too angry, and it hurts. (At the same time, it feels so _good._ )

“God!” Steve shouts. “Oh, fuck! Fuck, yeah!”

” _Fuck, I’m so tight,”_ Bucky yells, which Steve thinks is an _utterly ridiculous_ thing to say, and almost bursts out laughing. He’s trying too hard, Steve thinks. Sucker.

But then, Steve imagines the guy’s probably trying to stick half his hand up his ass, which Steve figures has got to feel tight. Steve unconsciously picks up his own pace a little.

He brings up one of his hands and teases it over one of his nipples. He tweaks it until it’s hard, then pinches it tightly.

“Oh,” Steve keens, voice higher than he knows Bucky can reach. He does it again, voice pitching higher with each pinch, “Oh, oh, oh, OH!” Breath catching in his throat, Steve props himself up to sitting position, so he can better fuck his slick, hot hand. It feels so good, _as good as winning,_ and Steve lets his lungs empty all the sounds he’s bitten back before.

From the hall, Steve hears a low chuckle.

“Mmmm,” comes Bucky’s voice, clearer than it was through the wall. He can hear Bucky’s _breathing,_ now, though, when he turns to look at his open doorway, Bucky’s not there.

Bucky gasps loudly, so Steve starts fingering himself as he saw Bucky do earlier, using some of his Vaseline to slick himself up. He sticks an extra pillow underneath his hips so he can get at a better angle, laying on his back. He’s never done this to himself before, but he knows how to do it. It doesn’t sting much as he’d thought when he slowly and gently presses a finger into himself.

“ _Oh, god, oh god oh god ohgodohgodohgod,”_ Steve breathes out in a heavy sigh, his voice pitching up towards the end into a pathetic little moan. Bucky must see it as a challenge, though, because he starts grunting, just outside of the line of sight of Steve’s door, the noises carrying from the back of Bucky’s throat to Steve’s ears.

Steve closes his eyes and has to stop, tightening his fingers on the base of his cock, because he’s going to come too soon if he doesn’t stop. He sits up and restlessly shifts his position, curling into himself so it’s easier to press another finger in next to the other.

Steve finds himself keening again loudly with the stretch of two fingers. He begins to move them gently, scissoring them around, exploring what feels good and what doesn’t for a minute, until he finds what definitely _does._

After he gets the hang of fingering himself, Steve goes at it with reckless abandon, fucking himself on his fingers, letting loose every curse and moan and cry, beingas loud as he feels like it. He feels like he’s on fire, he feels like he’s _flying,_ like he’s a live wire and he never, ever wants to stop.

_Knock, knock, knock,_ comes a knock on the doorframe of Steve’s open door. Steve doesn’t let himself stop when he opens his eyes and turns to look at the door.

“Mind if I come in?” Bucky asks breathlessly from the hall.

Bucky’s standing naked in Steve’s doorway, fisting his cock in his hand, grease on his fingers and all over his dick. He’s bright red and breathless, and unashamed to lock eyes with Steve while he jerks himself off.

“Is this okay?” Bucky asks again, pausing for a moment., and Steve knows that he’s not just asking to come in, he’s asking permission for their stupid little game to continue.

“Sure. Make yourself – at home,” Steve says between moans. His fingers brush over the spot again, which he’s pretty sure is his prostate. He tries to target it with every thrust of his fingers. “Oh, god, _Bucky._ ”

“Is that –“ Bucky throws his head back and moans, “—all you got, Rogers? Cause this – this is just – me getting started.”

Steve chuckles deep in his throat.

“Why, Barnes?” he asks, “you getting’ tired? I could do this all day.”

Bucky grins.

Steve watches with bated breath as Bucky struts into Steve’s room. He stops at the foot of Steve’s bed. Steve hesitates in touching himself, pulling back a little. God, Bucky’s so _close…_

Bucky climbs over the foot of Steve’s bed and drops himself down onto the mattress, bare ass naked. He brings himself up to his knees, his reddened cock dripping and bobbing against his stomach, and brings his hand around to it once more.

When Bucky’s hand touches his cock again, he leans his head back, closes his eyes, and _groans._

“Oh, _yes,_ ” Steve breathes as he watches Bucky close up, sharp eyes taking in the way Bucky’s adam’s apple bobs, how his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, the veins standing out on his hard cock. Steve licks his lips.

Bucky cracks open an eye. “What was that, Steve?” he asks breathlessly.

Steve draws himself up to face Bucky and mirrors his position. He abandons fingering himself and, instead, strokes his cock. Throwing his head back, Steve moans, “Oh, _yes!”_

Bucky snorts.

“You fake it this bad with all the girls, Rogers?” he snorts. His voice still sounds heavy, taking some of the cocky confidence of his usual smirk, but Bucky grins anyways. Steve scowls at him.

“What are you sayin’, Buck?” Steve breathes. “You that familiar with how fakin’ it sounds?”

Bucky visibly bites back something, probably a curse. Steve follows Bucky’s gaze and realizes that Bucky is staring at his lips. Slowly, Steve licks his tongue over his lips, pulling in the salty sweat taste on them. He tightens his grip on his cock, amazed that he hasn’t come yet, and bites his lip while he pretends to strain for release.

He wonders if he’ll ever come now, with Bucky in front of him and so much fire worked up in his veins. He might’ve plateaued, and this might all end in embarrassment, with Steve unable even to bring himself off. All talk, Bucky’ll say.

Steve grunts and thrusts harder into his hand.

“Shit,” he moans. “Fuck.”

“You got a dirty mouth, Rogers,” Bucky drawls. “Where’d you learn those kinda words?”

“Hearin’ you screaming all night long,” Steve spits. “You’re the reason I never get any sleep.”

“Yeah, right,” Bucky laughs. “Like you don’t make a peep when you jerk off. I’ve heard you, whining in here, squealing like a stuck pig while you fuck your hand.”

“Fuck off,” Steve snaps without thinking. Before Bucky can reply sarcastically, Steve continues, “I don’t squeal like a stuck pig.”

“Oh, yeah, you _do,_ ” Bucky says, breathing heavily. Impossibly, they’re both still jacking off, albeit a little more slowly. Steve can’t stop and take a minute to think about it, because if he does, he might talk himself out of this. And he can’t back down now. He wants to see this to the – sticky – end.

“You moan and squeal and squeak,” Bucky laughs.

“Shut it, Barnes,” Steve scowls, quitting to cross his arms. “I do _not._ ”

“You _do!_ ” Bucky stops thrusting into his hand long enough to catch Steve’s eye. “I’ve heard you,” he says. He pitches his voice up, imitating Steve, going back to snapping his hips overdramatically. _“Oh, god, faster, yeah, oooooh!”_

Steve swallows, because Bucky’s doing an awfully good impression of him, if he’s being honest. It’s too good, really. He’s _losing._ So he changes tactics.

“You been listening, Buck?” Steve asks slyly. He throws all caution to the wind and starts jacking off again, stroking his thumb down his cock slowly. A bead of pre-come appears at the head. He pulls his thumb through it and brings his hand up to his mouth, like he’s going to lick it off. Bucky’s eyes are transfixed on his mouth for a moment before Steve wipes his thumb off on the sheets instead.

“Huh, Buck?” Steve asks again.

Bucky swallows. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “I mean, not that I can help it, with how thin these walls are, and how loud you—“

“Can’t help it, can you?” Steve asks cruelly. He thinks about fingering himself again, but it’s awkward at this angle, and he doesn’t want to lie down, not with Bucky a few inches taller than him as it is. He pulls on his cock roughly, so his next groans come out harsh and wet. “Can’t help listening to me fuck off in here, can’t help imagine what it must be like, can’t help yourself, can you?”

Bucky licks his lips like he’s about to answer, but Steve continues.

“What else can’t you help yourself do, Bucky?” he asks, teasingly. “You touch yourself while you listen, real quiet like?”

Bucky seems to catch on quick, because he scowls. “Like _you’re_ doing now?” he asks, trying to gain back ground.

“Yeah,” Steve says, looking down at his heavy, hard cock, which is dripping now. “Just like I am now. You fuck your own hand? Imagine you’re fucking me?”

“ _Steve,_ ” Bucky groans. His knuckles turn white for a moment. Steve smiles.

“Remember how you were fingering yourself earlier?” Steve asks sweetly. “Those wide, rough callouses of yours, it’s hard, pretendin’ they’re my skinny little fingers, isn’t it? Or do you like to think about my tongue down there instead?”

“You’re a lot of talk, y’know?” Bucky manages, but he’s _gone_. Steve grins. Bucky’s close to the edge, he can tell, from the whimpering noises Bucky’s making in the back of his throat, like he always makes before he comes. His cock looks gorgeous between his frantic fingers, wet and red and swollen. Steve bites his lip.

“What, you want me to back it up?” Steve says. “So I can be the one to pull all those shouts and moans outta you?

“Preferably,” Bucky growls in a broken voice, and Steve knows this is _it,_ this is the moment.

“Hmm,” Steve says, lowering his voice to a murmur, so Bucky has to lean in to hear it, even though he’s chasing the tails of his orgasm. A few inches from Bucky’s ear, Steve whispers, “I wonder if you’d be able to keep _quiet_ while I fucked you.”

Bucky comes all over himself without a sound.

Steve sits back on his haunches and watches as Bucky quakes and shivers through his orgasm, breathing heavily, but not making a peep. He spills all over his hand and chest, closes his eyes, and makes the most beautiful face Steve has ever seen.

He’s not biting his tongue, or his wet, red lips. Steve wonders how much self-control it’s taking Bucky to stay quiet, or if it’s _always_ been a show for him.

When Bucky’s finished and has come back to himself, he weakly looks over at Steve.

“Well,” Steve says smugly. “Looks like I might be a little _better_ than you, actually,” he smiles. “Made you come without even touching you. Guess I win.”

Bucky leans forwards, almost until their noses are pressing together. As he pulls Steve into his lap, he chuckles to himself.

“We’ll see about that.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can [reblog this fic](http://sarriane.tumblr.com/post/106752066990) or [follow me](http://sarriane.tumblr.com) in the distant hope that, one day, I will post porn for _you _.__


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